Session One Hundred Thirty-Four - November 12, 2016

Wherein the ongoing story of the FtF campaign may be found ...

Session One Hundred Thirty-Four - November 12, 2016

Postby Matt » Wed Jan 04, 2017 6:36 pm

Halane 6, 732
An upstairs room at Galopea’s Feast

A silence fills the room as the question of who will be king is put to Orsin Firith, Baron of Kobe, Lord Marshal of Kaldor. The thoughts of the Baron are a mystery at this point. His active participation in the conspiracy has been noticeably less passionate once the newest of titles fell upon him. There were those in the room that suspected that all he ever truly had wanted was to be Marshal of Kaldor, though his blood was not lacking to be a king, in truth his heart was that of a soldier.

The Baron was unsurprised by the question, though it was the first time in the presence of all the conspirators that the issue had been addressed so directly.  The Baron of Ternua locked his gaze on his brother baron, but fixed his mind towards Sir Kytem, newly brought into the affairs of the conspiracy. As the First Knight of Kaldor bent his will in his direction he came up against the annoying warbling sound and knew he would gain no insight from that quarter.

“Why must we decide this issue now, can it not wait?” demurred the Baron.

The gaze of Sir Meden, and that of everyone in the room didn’t not waver from Firith, “Why for the simple matter that an opportunity has arisen.”

Sir Meden does not wait for any further answer but motions to Sir Kytem and nods his head.
The brother, looking at the assembled knights begins, “Many have speculated on the King’s condition, some with knowledge, some without. The rumor is that his condition is improving, and this is physically true. The poison has abated or he has grown used to its presence. His mind however has not. He still raves and were he permitted to do so he would make outlandish pronouncements. In fact he escaped to the battlements raving one recent night. It is regrettable that the King’s illness has left him in this state, but I can speak with certainty as his seneschal that he is not sane.”

Ternua shook his head, “It’s regrettable that the King’s illness has left us in this position. It would be better for him to die, not live like this.”

The knight continues, “Correct, his body lives, but his mind is gone. The Crown has passed from him.”
 
Sir Meden began again, “And so you can see the problem. If the King is not to die and not to rule then the Queen, who has told no one, will rule until she installs her son as regent. At that point our opportunity has passed.”
 
The Baron of Ternua, leaning forward, saved the Baron of Kobe from answering, “Yes the Prince. Where is Brandis?”
 
Sir Meden feeling interrupted at getting the Lord Marshal to answer his question turns his gaze upon him. “Brandis Elendsa is in Setrew. Where he has been since I smuggled him out of Caer Elendsa with his mother’s permission.”
 
“So there is little danger of the Queen placing him on the throne just yet. What are you planning to do with him?”
 
The image of the Prince looking through a hole in the wall to gaze upon bathing beauties appeared in the head of Sir Baris. What was Meleine doing at that moment he further mused … but for once Sir Baris confined his thoughts to the pictures that he saw in his head and did not give them voice as well. The conversation went on while Sir Baris wandered.
 
“I haven’t decided yet, but he can face exile or trial for the murder of his brother and an execution.”
 
Sir Æomund looks at his liege lord and though they say nothing, both believe that the exile idea is believed by no one in the room, including Sir Meden.
 
Lord Firith, stirring from his reverie blurted, “Wait a minute, you’re saying you have Prince Brandis?” Apparently the fact that the crown of Kaldor is being offered him left the Baron of Kobe a bit behind on the conversation.
 
Sir Meden smiled his Cheshire smile, “Of course. You don’t think I would let him run around loose do you?”
 
Having finally opened his mouth the words poured out of Sir Orsin, “Hmmm, I guess not. Under these circumstances what with the King still alive and what you have said, I cannot under these circumstances take the crown. I must decline. I also say that you will not have the support and you should probably stay where we are.”
 
Sir Meden gestured with an open hand, “With the Queen?”
 
Lord Orsin turned his gaze to the floor.  
 
Sir Meden continued, “Well support or not, then it is to be me. Do I have your support? Lord Firith or should I say Lord Chybisa?”
 
After a moment, Orsin nods.
 
Sir Prehil does not speak, but standing behind his father with has hand upon the chair surveys the room and Sir Æomund to gauge the response.
 
The Knight of the Lady of Paladins says nothing and his face remains outwardly calm. All of this belies what he thinks. THEATER! The knight has no doubt that this is a bit of theater put on for someone’s benefit. Sir Ewen’s and his own? Sir Meden’s brother? Either way the scene unfolding before them all has been a piece of stagecraft, at least in the mind of the knight. The price for Lord Orsin to step aside was, apparently, already agreed upon.  Sir Æomund’s call to action simply flushed it out.
 
Like a spider sidestepping in its web towards another tremor Sir Meden shifted in his seat towards Sir Ewen.
 
“So my lord Ternua, it comes to you?”
 
Ewen locked his gaze with the man, “You will forgive my saying Lord Meden, you can at times be the most unforthcoming of partners in such an endeavor. I have several questions.”
 
“I am sure you do and I must apologize for being so unforthcoming, but it is difficult to keep all the balls in the air.”
 
“Some of those balls may prove to be the loyalties of your partners.”
 
Sir Meden never took his eyes off of Ewen, “All of them are m’lord.”
 
“You speak today Lord Meden, in a manner that perhaps leads me to wonder at whether we should offer condolences on the death of your father?”
 
Sir Kytem was the first to move, and shifted his gaze to look at his older brother. Sir Meden simply smiled at the question.
 
“Indeed, I am the Earl of Neph. My father of late and happy memory succumbed to the heart attack that he suffered at the time of the Viking incursion. It seemed to me at the time that it would complicate matters given the condition of the kingdom to petition the Crown at that time for my birthright, but doesn’t change the fact that from this summer I have been the Earl. This has allowed me to command the resources of my earldom without the need to confer with anyone else.”

Ewen absorbed all of this information, but continued on to the point at hand. “You speak of resources. If Lord Firith and I are to support you then we should have a frank discussion about what those resources might be in order to gauge our success.”
 
Sir Meden remained evasive, “There are many kinds of resources, which ones did you have in mind?”
 
“I have a keen mind for all types of resources,” replied Ewen having yet to recognize any formal title upon Sir Meden.
 
“Well perhaps the great extent of my resources cannot be disclosed in an ale tavern, but perhaps we can discuss some of them. Men in the field?”
 
“Yes military assets are the foremost important, but I believe the question of whether you want to pursue this as a military endeavor has yet to be determined.
 
“Questions of kingdoms are rarely decided without having men to command, but this will not, as you surmised, be a militarily focused attempt.”
 
Sir Æomund was growing to dislike the smug attitude of Sir Meden even more than he usually did. The blithe pompous manner in which he carried himself, the lack of respect for title and office, even his own, was distasteful. The religious warrior bent his ear to the discussion, but he fixed his eyes upon the two men of Kobe. Both of them he knew well, perhaps the father better than the son in many respects. This seemed to be outside both their characters, there was another lever somewhere being pushed. The knight gauged their responses keenly to see if it would show itself.   
 
Sir Meden continued, “Especially, given the expected response of the Earls Balim and Vemion. Vemion may depart from his usual unforthcoming if this type of change were to come about.”
 
Ewen smiled, “Perhaps Sir Æomund here would like to take notes on the matter?”

Sir Meden took on a lecturing air as he proceeded to explain. “Let’s begin by discussing these other forces. The forces of the Earl of Osel are a shadow of what they once were. The Earl of Balim too has had his forces bloodied and his son and heir revealed an inconsequential military commander. It’s unfortunate that Serli Ubael has emerged in his stead. I did not see that coming, but regardless Balim is not what he once was. Some of his vassals are not as loyal to him as he would like. I was rather busy you may recall at your tournament. When for the best intentions ever, you brought together near the capital nearly every major heir. It was difficult talking to all of them, and more difficult to find what they wanted, but most are with us; Delwarnes, Labarns, Joplers, Valadors, several others. The Larqustes of course.”
 
“When you say they are with us you mean …” asked Ewen.
 
“That they are with me,” was the clipped response of Sir Meden.  
 
“Clan Artane?”
 
“Well no, Curo. I won’t adopt that name unless its required.”
 
Ewen’s questions were direct. “You are envisioning disbanding the earldom of Balim or replacing the inhabitants?”
 
“Simply containing them until the result is a foregone conclusion, I hereby have confined myself only to the great lords, but there are others. Firith, you, I hope. Sir Harapa has been most helpful. The Barons of Esenor, Setrew, Yeged, all of my own vassals of course. Tonot should be in our hands by now as well as Baseta, and I hold Olokand. In short the north is already mine. As to the earl of Vemion, I did send a letter or two, but in all truth Lord Ewen he hasn’t responded. I don’t know what he will do. But at the moment he hasn’t stirred from distant Minarsas.”
 
Sir Æomund coughed into his hand, “Unless he came by boat.”
 
Sir Meden looked at the knight as a cat does when it sees that there are more mice in the field to play with, “His whole army couldn’t move by boat. Oh and of course there is the Lady of Paladins.”
 
Ewen recalled the aspiring king’s attention, “They would support you?”
 
“They support my uncle, my uncle supports me. He was more difficult to win over than I thought for his loyalty to the King was commendable, but the Queen changed his mind. It was a delicious thing pushing her to seize power.”
 
Whether to catch Sir Meden off guard to redirect his Ewen asked a more indirect question, “What happened to the Princess Erlene?”
 
“It was fortunate but most unexpected. I guess tragedy strikes every family and despite the organized accidents that one would appear to be preordained.”
 
Ewen paused a moment to let that sink in. “And when do you propose to act? It is late in the year.”
 
Sir Meden switched to direct his next words to the whole room, “That is why we must act now, within this month. It will be necessary to detain the Queen, it would be ideal to have the Earl of Balim elsewhere. With those two things in hand and achieved in the opposite order that will be the time.
 
This plan seemed rather hasty and leaving out a key component, “What about the body of the King?” Asked Sir Æomund.
 
Sir Meden was dismissive, “A magnificent state funeral.”
 
“He still breathes …” countered the knight.
 
“Well when the time comes a magnificent funeral. It will require that his condition become known to the council of nobles to elect this successor. Sir Harapa will be presider, but the forms will be followed.
 
Ewen was not quite done. “What do you intend to do with the remnant of the earldom of Osel?”
 
“Excellent question, it goes without saying it is in the wrong hands but soon it will be just Qualdris. If Harabor decides not to be a problem he can keep it. The real question is what of the earldom of Olokand?”
 
“Very well Lord Meden you obviously have a plan for the earldom.”
 
The aspiring king smiled, “It’s technically part of the crown but it is the Elendsa earldom. I should think that it could be regranted. Tis a great strategic holding.”
 
“Surely with the number of noblemen that you have conferred with, that you have brought into your fold Lord Meden, you are not suggesting that the earldom of Olokand isn’t one of the morsels you dangled before your allies?”
 
Meden laughs a sound that discomforts the  room. “With the exception of Firith, I have offered an earldom to no one. Manors and baronies aplenty, but not earldoms. Olokand can’t be granted to anyone without certain sureties.”
 
The calculating First Knight of Kaldor continued,  “We have already seen Lord Meden that the defense of Olokand is critical to the safety of he kingdom, with the incursion that we dealt with earlier this year as the most immediate example.”
 
“And that is why I would propose that should you support me that the office for you would be Sheriff of Meselyneshire, holding Olokand in the capacity of sheriff, the earldom retained by the crown.”
 
And there it was thought Sir Æomund, there was the bait in the trap for his feudal lord, the offered price for setting aside a sick and heaven-cursed king.  
 
“A wise position to take Lord Meden in so far as retaining that to the crown is prudent.” Sir Ewen had not hinted in his response of whether he accepted the offer or not.
 
“I’m glad you agree. It so happens that the previous occupant of the shrievalty having not been replaced.”
 
“Then it does seem a position of considerable honor to the occupant though is perhaps not of the utmost importance that it be occupied at all times.”
 
“No, though being vacant this summer it appears was untimely.”
 
“Well given my contribution to Ovendel Field, and with Lord Firith here, I have a keen interest in the military side of things. The Sheriff of Meselyneshire sounds tempting, but my price for a King Meden the First would have to include Heru as well.”
 
“It is in no small part that due to your performance at Ovendel Field and at Olokand that I have considered you for this position Lord Ewen. Not to mention the no small part you did in organizing a tournament at the right place at the right time. It is my understanding that you and Sir Bereden Pawade get along well? And Sir Bereden seems to still sit in Heru and sees you as a sort of suzerain.”
 
“You will recall that my wife previously enjoyed possession of that keep.”
 
“I see no reason to disturb the relationship as it exists.”
 
Sir Ewen pressed the matter, “I would need you to formalize that relationship.”
 
“Very well. At the appropriate time when it can be made legal we can consider that as part of your fief.” 
 
Sir Meden believed the matter done, Ewen however continued to press. “I think Lord Meden that my wife would consider me remiss if I were not to mention her concern that my noble father in law has taken it into his mind to jeopardize here right to inherit upon his demise.”
 
“I heard he has taken a wife.”
 
“He has. My lady wife, I think would ask that you support her cause in the event of the inheritance coming into question.”
 
“Is she pregnant?”
 
“As you yourself found, efforts to find out what is going on in Minarsas are unsuccessful. My sources tell me that he is in fact there, nothing more.”
 
“I cannot speak for the present situation, but I will say that I could not imagine entrusting such a valuable earldom into the hands of an infant. Lady Thilisa is more than capable of handling an earldom.”
 
“Should would be gratified to know that you think so. Then like Lord Firith here I am in support of your endeavor.”
 
Sir Meden steepled his hands and nodded his head, “I gratefully accept your support.”
 
Sir Kytem rapped on the table, and the two Barons stood.
 
Firith spoke first and bowed, “Gentlemen, the future king.”
 
“I thank you all. “
 
Meden then rose, “Let us keep, for a while longer, what has occurred quiet. The time will come very shortly for the transition of the reins, for now nothing changes. In terms of what we have been doing may fortune’s wheel favor us.”
 
The head of House Curo turned and departed, taking his brother in his wake.
 
No one in the room spoke, each lost in their own thoughts on what had just occurred. Then by unspoken common consent they all departed.


Halane 7, 732
Rainy, cold overcast.
 
Sir Baris arises, and pulling on his leggings he goes through the idle morning ritual of preparing for the day and breakfast at Raven Hall. The weighty matters of kings and kingdoms he was willing to leave to others to contemplate and concern themselves with. The more immediate and personally pressing issue of knight’s service weighed upon the knights mind. Somewhere, somehow the coin purse of £10 should be heavier and more in his favor.
 
The thoughts pressed upon the knight until coming to his senses he saw Barton standing in from of the knight with his hand extended.
 
“Not now Barton, I can’t think about math right now.”
 
“A letter for you Sir Baris.”
 
“Is it from Meleine?”
 
“A man left it Sir Baris.”

“Yes, yes, but is it from Meleine?!”
 
“You would have to read it Sir Baris.”
 
The knight tears at the seal without looking to see what seal has closed it and his look of anticipation turns to a frown. The contents of the letter seem to look suspiciously like a ledger, meaning he either owed money or was receiving money. Either way a math free morning was lost.
 
Sir Baris quickly scanned the columns and noted that the sender had written a note in the space free of numbers.
 
To the Lord of Selepan,
Sir, it is with great pleasure and anticipation I would like to speak with you. As you can see by these hasty and quick numbers there is great money to make in the salt business. Not only is there a need for local use which will defray the personal costs of your estate, but also in the sale of salt to your neighbors or even further afield. This precious and great resource exists in untapped veins in Selepan. I believe that this resource could be exploited to both of our benefits. This is a matter in which I believe we should deal directly with each other, without the pockets or influence of intermediaries coming between us.
 
//Signed//
(Illegible)  

 
Sir Baris folded the note and stuffed it into his pocket and made his way to Raven Hall.
 
He entered the hall, late for the second time in a row, causing simultaneous relief and consternation from the staff. Relief in that all the cooked food would not have gone to waste and consternation in that now the rhythm of breakfast had been broken by the late arrival.  The talk around the knight was mostly about the events of the previous evening and the state of the King. Though Sir Baris paid little attention to the discussion.
 
During the meal Lord Ewen is passed a note, which Sir Baris recognizes as the one that he sent to his feudal lord. Sir Ewen recognizes it as a letter requesting a meeting to discuss an unstated issue with an unstated person, dismisses it and sets it aside. Sir Baris finishes his breakfast as the others begin to depart and nods to Ewen.
 
“I’ll be at the Elf and Dwarf if you need me Lord Ewen, or maybe looking into salt. I’ll be at the Elf and Dwarf most of the day.”
 
Ewen simply nodded at the knight.
 
 
The squire of the First Knight of Kaldor ate quickly, like Sir Baris he had more personal and pressing business to attend to then to worry about his role in the great events of the realm. He grabbed tight to his cloak and set off across the Gray Lady of the Kald towards Martaryne House.
 
He knocked loudly and curtly upon the door and waited, within moments the door was opened by the stable boy.  
 
“Squire Goreg, have you heard the news?”
 
“What news?”
 
“I was hoping you had news. Are you here to see your mother?”
 
“Yes I am.”
 
“I am pretty sure she is here somewhere.”
 
Goreg enters into the Hall as the boy trundles off. Lady Farlla and the ladies of the house are there but he does not see his mother. He extends his greetings with a bow.
 
“Goreg.”
 
“A good day lady.”
 
“Here to see your mother?”
 
“Yes.”
 
She lets out a deep sigh, “I live for the day that you come here with some official reason or notice of going somewhere.”
 
“I endeavor to serve the Lord of Ternua.”
 
She raises an eyebrow, “I thought you were with that Ewen fellow.”
 
“I am, he is now the Lord of Ternua.”
 
She looks a bit put out at this, “You are the squire to a baron?”
 
“Yes, and my mother is the mother of a squire of the Baron of Ternua,” added Goreg with pride.
 
Lady Farlla was a bit cold with her response, “Your mother is not home, being perhaps at market or keeping company.”
 
“Mangai Square?”
 
“Is there another?”
 
Seeing that his company was not particularly welcome Goreg bowed and made a quick circuit of the square on the off chance he would see his mother. Then feeling as if he had not quite met the expectations of the dutiful son penned her a letter at Raven Hall to inform her that he had sought to see her.
 
Arva and Cekiya also departed Raven Hall after breakfast, Arva to see Tashal, and the Adder as her guide.
 
The first desire of the lady was to see the makers of musical instruments, this brings them first to the temple of Peoni, and the comment “This is where Baris goes when he doesn’t want to Baris.” Arva nods at this not quite sure what she means but instead focuses on where the alleys and the roads turn and meet each other.
 
In not a few moments the two find themselves in front of the harper Lanas Sosora. The ladies bow as the proprietor comes out to meet them. The man has the long lean fingers of a great musician or craftsman, though the whites of his eyes are drifting towards opaque and he speaks with a volume that shows that his hearing is perhaps going as well. The walls are hung with many shined and oiled instruments. The three chat for a bit and find that the old man no longer makes the instruments, but overseas their making. He also signed Arva’s guild papers as the guild master of Tashal and thanks her for coming and showing the customary respect especially since ‘so few do these days.’
 
During the visit Arva also learns some of the acting troops of Tashal that reside in Lyryn, outside the city walls. Specifically Bors of Halle, who has been beaten over some of his satirical plays, a great accolade for a satirist.
 
The two wander the city and find themselves headed towards the direction of the Wolf’s Den. The passing of one house solicits the comment from Cekiya that, “Daffodil lives there, she’s family.”
 
“Your family?”

“Nope, the Raven’s.” Arva doesn’t question her guide, just files away all the seemingly random things she says to be studied or recalled later when they may be useful.
 
The Wolf’s Den is largely as they left it the day before. The same nondescript people are drinking, in fact it’s hard to say whether anyone has left or not since their last visit. Even to the small boy who continues to ply the art of dice games.
 
The other patrons look at them as they enter, but say nothing.  
 
The tavern keeper, occupied as all tavern keepers across Harn are by idly whipping something with a rag dirtier than the object being cleaned.
 
“Lost?”
 
“No thirsty. Ale?”
 
“You have coin?”
 
“We do.” Arva lays a coin in the bar.
 
The tavern man sighs at being called to execute the office of his trade and pours two ales. He sets them down before the two women and points to a sagging figure hunched over the bar, “And you behave.”
  
Then to the ladies, “I’ll keep the penny, you’re due two more.”
 
The two sip at their ales while no one around them speaks to them or too loudly, as they draw close to the bottom of their drinks two more appear at the hand of the tavern man. “We’re closing after this one.”
 
Neither of the two believe that to be true, but recognize it as a polite way of being asked to leave. The second ales go down, perhaps a little slower than the first ones just to prove a point, but little changes in the bar. As the two prepare to leave they see two men, armed with blades, enter. The crowd seems to accept them as a common fixture and the sound of dicing increases as the two depart and return to Raven Hall.  
 

Lord Ewen sat in his solar at Raven Hall. The evening had progressed rather more directly then he thought it would. Sir Æomund’s forthright nature had its advantages sometimes, though Sir Ewen as well wondered privately how Orsin and Meden had come to an agreement and when.
 
Walin knocked on his door.
 
“A young lady m’lord has come from the Elf and Dwarf, conveying a message from Sir Baris.”
 
Ewen arched an eye, Walin knew the look to mean both proceed and the demonstration of slender interest.  
 
“He, Sir Baris that is, wanted to make sure that you knew he was there.”
 
The Baron of Ternua frowned … 

“I wouldn’t have bothered you but the lady insists she was instructed to wait on an answer and that me delivering the message was not sufficient. I would have turned her out but I guess it could be important. One never knows with Sir Baris.”
 
Ewen says mostly to himself, “Why is the smallest of my holders the most vexing …”
 
Ewen waved Walin off and asked him to return in a few moments.  Alone he bent his sharp mind towards Sir Baris.
 
His mind is filled with the vision of Sir Baris in the common room drinking an ale. In front of him is a piece of paper, a quill and ink. Baris reflects but there is nothing on the paper. He sits thinking hard.

Ewen scratches out a response and calls Walin.

Thanks Sir Baris for the information regarding your whereabouts. Good luck in your writing exercise. Ternua.
 
Focusing on more important things now that Bastune has left Tashal he recalls the members of his household with a note to the lady of the house saying that should she desire it, he will respond to any request of call for such aid in the future.


Halane 8, 732
The Gray Lady of the Kald is cold and overcast.
 
The morning at Raven Hall sees its occupants mostly concerned with their own thoughts. The squire Goreg did receive a response to his note of the previous day, his mother acknowledging his visit and recommending he come for tea on the tenth or eleventh of the month.
 
Sir Æomund rose to the day restless and anxious to do something more active then visiting ale houses and wasting away his Lords coin. Gauging the weather the Knight of the Lady of Paladins decided to go hunting and cultivate some of the acquaintances of his within the city.  In short order messages were sent to Sirs Lysat Haith, Rohn Sarlis, and Tonan Yaronne.
 
The Master of the House had other business and was soon at Galopea’s Feast with Sir Baris in tow to meet Sirs Gorbar and Arlbis, baronial heirs. The Baron of Ternua was supremely confident in his ability to sway the opinions of his peers.
 
Sir Arlbis was the usually the brighter of the two, “So Lord Ewen, you think that our feudal dues are in danger? Like, I am sure all of you, we’re in the process of collecting ours now. We had planned on submitting them to the King as usual, but you say there is danger?”
 
Ewen took a sip and looked about the room speaking to no one in particular, “Well there is a real threat that Harabor could ride out of Qualdris, or even hire brigands to waylay the scutage and tithe owed to the Crown. Any number of road issues really.”
 
Sir Arlbis demurred, “Well, I don’t know. I don’t think there is any reason to worry about that. Wouldn’t that put them on the wrong side of the law?”
 
Ewen looked at the two men directly, “Well they have already been accused of treason, I don’t know where that stands and the Queen has seemingly marginalized us and the majority of the major tenants of the King.”
 
Sir Gorbar fidgeted uncomfortably, “I thought that was just Maldan. Is it the whole family?”
 
Sir Arlbis looked at this companion, “If he were to become a highwayman I am sure he would be.”
 
“Surely even a highwayman must commit the crime right?” Sir Gorbar looked to Ewen uncertainly.
 
“No, being a highwayman makes one outside the law. Lord Ewen is correct.”
 
Ewen spoke in a mock conspiratorial tone that his companions took in earnest, “Gentlemen, I spoke with Kolorn and he is planning on waiting, fearing Harabor highwaymen.”
 
The two men looked at each other.
 
Sir Arlbis spoke first, “Well, really, maybe we should consider waiting.”
 
Ewen continued, “I have taken the precaution of assisting Lord Bastune by holding his dues at Ternua until it is safe. I have also had to go to Heru and eject the younger son Kornuska from there.”
 
Sir Arlbis was shocked. “What? Really, the family is going to pot.”
 
“Indeed, the Queen evicted him from his family’s own holdings. A bit irregular.”
 
Sir Gorbar belched then spoke, “It is, it is indeed irregular. Lord Ewen you don’t suppose the Queen is privy to some maleficence of Harabor that has not been made public?”
 
“If she is, she hasn’t informed any of us on the matter. I will not have my feudal dues not delivered safely. Just because the Queen has decided not to make that public, I will not put my dues at risk. My duty is to see them safely in the hands of the King, not to run the risk of a royal budget crisis due to preventable theft. Rather they were late and safe, than never arrive.”
 
Sir Arlbis nodded, “That’s a fine position to take. I think we should advise our fathers to do the same. It would be inappropriate for the bounty of our lands to be denied to the King or fall into the wrong hands.”
 
Sir Gorbar sat in thought for a moment “In the case of Arlbis, he renders to Athelren, a royal keep. But we of Nubeth, only so recently subinfeudated to the Crown, were planning on paying directly to Tashal. But you say you have made some arrangements?
 
The Baron of Ternua continued, “I sent a squadron of horse to Eliten Manor to patrol the area for early warning of any Harabor interference. There is a new earl but he has not pledged his loyalty. It’s the first thing I would have done. In addition I have bolstered my force at Ternua. If your father does intend to send his dues along that route, let me know so that I may give surety.”
 
Sir Gorbar relaxed, “You are a man of inestimable loyalty and friendship. If we cannot render them to Sirendel but send them to Tashal I will encourage him to send them under your guardianship. Together we will ensure them proof against highwaymen.”
 
Sir Ewen idly stroked his chin as the two men assented to his plan.
 

As the morning wore on Sir Æomund, in the company of Sirs Rohn and Lysat with Goreg and Petros, rode east of the city, Sir Tonan begging off on pressing duties. The four men each seemed to be pleased in their own way and for their own reasons to be out of Tashal. All the armed men and the political uncertainty seemed to weigh like a sodden woolen cloak over all the souls of the city. The men were soon joined by the huntress Kittiara, appearing as she did soon after Sir Æomund left the city. Petros, knowing no messages were ever sent still marveled at the occurrence.
 
The knight and the huntress chatted briefly in Bujoc, the squire still puzzled through the ambiguous use of pronouns that the language used caught only a portion of what was said, but nodded anyway fearing his master would scold him again on his neglect to learn the language as instructed.
 
The companions soon found themselves in the royal lands set aside for the ennobled of the city to take advantage of hunting by royal assent.
 
Sir Æomund started the discussion, “Well Sir Rohn, I suppose the Harabor incident has your scribes working late into the night.”
  
“Well it’s really all about the legalities of it. Lord Maldan wasn’t tried, convicted, or attainted. He was simply executed. Without those legalities there is no legal impediment to the succession of the earldom. Had it been done juridically, there would have been a bill of attainder, a trial, judicial execution, and forfeiture of title. But it does leave Mirild in a precarious position. I am certain that there are many that will question if he has a right to an earldom that he succeeded from an executed traitor.”
 
“I wonder how much the fitness of the King to adjudicate plays in to this?”
 
“I am not sure the King even knows what has happened.”
 
Sir Æomund looked at Sir Lysat, “With the King indisposed it puts our Order in a precarious position too.”
 
Sir Lysat had been only half listening until this point. “I suppose it does Sir Æomund it does, for our Order represents stability but also the divine order as established by the Lady. That which is presently occurring, the King’s illness; these are not orderly things.”
 
Sir Æomund nodded, “A trying time indeed when our divine mission is the safety of the realm.”
 
Sir Lysat was proving to be a more thoughtful knight than Sir Æomund had given him credit. “Is it all the folk, or the faithful people? We always assumed they were the same.”
 
Sir Æomund replied, “What if they are not?”
 
“That is a difficulty for theologians, not for me.”
 
Sir Rohn laughed, “Surely even a knight of the Order of Paladins must have a theological positions.”
 
Sir Lysat continued, “There are some Sir Rohn that do, but I am among those of the Order who draw their source in the defense of the Lady and I do not give it that much thought beyond that. My job is to see that no harm comes to the temple, the Serolan, its clergy. That is a big enough job.”
 
Sir Æomund pressed, “Who speaks for the Lady, the archbishop or our own conscience?”
 
“Some would say that it is our conscience, but I would call that Save-K’norian thinking. As Laranians we are part of a divine feudal order. We owe allegiance to our liege, and in turn are owed the allegiance of those below us. If the archbishop were to say a thing were so it would be so, but if the primate said otherwise then it would be otherwise, and so on up to the pontiff.”
 
Sir Æomund then gave voice to a question he had often pondered, “If one commits an act one knows to be evil in the service of one’s lord then with whom does the sin rest, the doer or the one who ordered it?”
 
Sir Lysat thought for a moment, “Ah that’s the crux Sir Æomund. Where the matter is of small import then one must not worry about it for the greater duty of obedience prevails, and faithfulness to the hierarchy. But that is easy and not what you are asking. Where the order comes down and it seems to go against everything, one hopes the order never comes, but we don’t get to choose that. In that moment one becomes one of two things, a Laranian or a renegade.”
 
Sir Æomund responded heavily almost as if quoting the scripture, “Service to one’s lord is the highest form of devotion to the Lady and thereby the guilt of the lord is his sin to bear. Or so I was taught.”
 
Sir Lysat turns to the knight as if he had considered the question in a new light. “Yes, yes Sir Æomund, I think that that has to be so for that is our theology. Sir Rohn, our obedience to the Lady washes the guilt from us for the crime is imputed to the liege not to the servant for we do not purpose that guilt when we purpose our service.”
 
Sir Æomund  redirected to include Sir Rohn in the otherwise theological debate. “Sir Rohn, in that light, should the sons of Harabor be questionable because their father was executed?”
 
“It would be so if the monarch deemed it so. But it has not been so deemed, as some point out Lord Mirild must go and receive the accolade of the monarch and make the oath of peace and be liege man of life and limb and receive the belt. But, he is the earl nonetheless. Usually it is pro forma, but we live in an unusual epoch. Sir Æomund  you are a companion of Sir Ewen …”
 
“You mean the Baron of Ternua?”
 
“You anticipate me sir, I received some interesting paperwork concerning that. The man who arrived penniless to the kingdom now to a Baron, in the time frame of a year of two to stop where? To become king? I don’t speak treason, but how is this possible? Pray sir can you enlighten me?”
 
“You answered the question. We live in a strange epoch, periods of long peace and then turmoil. We appear to be in one of turmoil and many things change.”
 
“So you raise another question, one I have wondered at for some time, I do not seek to presume upon our friendship, but you are a knight of the Order of Paladins, but seem to be a retainer of the man.”
 
Sir Æomund  laughed at the implied question. “Yes, a strange occurrence of the law. I’m bound to Varayne as my liege lord, by a clerical error the Archbishop conferred the title to Sir Ewen and apparently like a cabinet or the rolls of the shire, I was passed on. One’s lord is one’s lord and I owe myself to the Lord of Varayne, currently one Baron of Ternua.”
 
Sir Rohn started at that response, “You’re a captive!”
 
Sir Æomund  chuckled, “Indeed yes. Tell me master of feudal law is there a way out of this?”
 
Sir Rohn took the comment for the jest it was intended, “As they say at the docks, you’re fucked. But it seems one day you must be Lord of Varayne. If that were the case then you would be lord of yourself.”
 
“Well there is also the pious reward of serving one’s lord.”
 
“Yes, freedom in the next world if not here.”  
 
Due to the skill of the huntress Kittiara each of the companions on the hunt manage a quail for each of their bags and passed the day in lighter conversation.
 
The squire Goreg smiled as he patted his bag, “In uncertain times it’s good to go and kill things.”
 

Sir Ewen sat in his solar the remainder of the day, and seeking to ignore for a moment his pressing matters, made his way to Hag Hall for the night.


Halane 9, 732
Cold Overcast.
 
Another breakfast passes in Raven Hall. Sir Baris again seemingly intent on letting Ewen know where he could be found if required at any given moment of the day.
 
Sir Æomund ate quickly and returned to his place in the house to brush and clean his clothes. The badge that marked him as a Knight of the Lady of Paladins received its usual attention, but the knight also fretted over his tunic and cloak to a greater degree than usual. Petros let him about his business and was unsurprised when he waves him off upon leaving.
 
The sure confident steps of the knight took him directly to Melderyn House. Lady Alyce had asked him not to call directly, but to send a note if he wished to meet, today the knight chose to ignore that fact and presented himself to the two men at arms at the door.
 
“Sir Æomund Legith of the Lady of Paladins to see the Lady Alyce Dulye.” 
 
One of the men leads him into the courtyard before the house and inside the vestibule of the house are two more men at arms. The escort exchanges his charge and Sir Æomund is motioned to the left into an antechamber. There are chairs and the arms of the King of Melderyn. Here he waits.
 
Shortly, one of the guards returns stating the lady will see him, but begs his indulgence a few moments. Sir Æomund spends that uncomfortable time fidgeting with his cloak.
 
In what seemed like an eternity to the knight he finally catches a glimpse of Lady Alyce speaking with the guards, but does not hear what is said. She enters the room and to Sir Æomund brings with her the light of stars and moon.
 
“Æomund, what an unexpected surprise, I hope nothing is amiss?”
 
“I have been … been absent from the city and wished to share your company.”
 
“How very touching. Come let us go outside and walk among the garden, such as it is.”
 
She leads him out behind the house and while not a formal garden the space is well maintained and the two walk along paths of crushed mollusk shells. There are few such creatures in the Kald, Æomund knows.
 
“And what did you have in mind?”
 
Sir Æomund gazed at the building, the back of which was lined with a multitude of windows. Anyone watching would clearly see the two in the garden. Knowing the Deryni nature of no doubt many in the house Sir Æomund understood now why Lady Alyce had rebuffed him from calling on her here, but here he was.  
 
“May I speak plainly here in the garden?”
 
“You may speak plainly anywhere in the house you wish or if you prefer …” She hesitated bordering on the suggestion of a rapport, but stopped short. “No, speak plainly.”
 
“I’m in search of confirmation of some news I heard.”
 
“And you came to me?”
 
“Other than my Lady above there are few to whom I give my council but you are one, particularly with matters of such import. I have heard that the King’s body heals but his mind does not.”
 
“Yes. I have heard that too. It is a great tragedy.”
 
“The greater tragedy will be when such knowledge becomes well known.”
 
“How do you mean?”
 
“The King has no acceptable heir and can’t obviously rule any longer on his own.”
 
“If you mean Brandis is a fratricide this is true. There seem to be many that cannot accept that.”
 
“How could anyone accept a king with that sin unredeemed?”
 
“I do not know. There has never been such that I have heard of before, and I doubt there will be now. What are you asking me?”
 
“Is it true that the King cannot rule and the Queen and Balim speak in his name only?”
 
“That is a fascinating question for the subject of one king to ask the subject of another, but … you ask me with honesty, humility, and sincerity, so I must answer the same way. I do not see how it is possible a king can rule fully without his mind and body. It is true that a king is assumed to be a chivalric ideal a perfect puissant knight, but that is in fact not important. But no monarch can rule without his mental faculties intact. If it is true and he lost those faculties then Kaldor is facing a tremendous crisis, which as far as I know that has never faced another kingdom on this island. He is incapable of ruling, and therefore there are only two options: a regent must be appointed, or he must be deposed and a new king anointed in his stead. Obviously the first is preferable and seems to be what has been done, with the appointment of the Queen.  One would think it would be Lady Protectoress though.”
 
Sir Æomund  tried not the be as blunt and demanding as he sounded, but he thought it safer to hear the words from someone who wasn’t subject to the King and therefore not as tightly bound. “The theory is unimportant to great men in the realm. The reality is. Have you heard and do you know if the King escaped from his room and raved upon the battlements?”
 
Lady Alyce sighed and looked up at the walls of the city. “Yes I had heard that. Sir Arren made some mention, or rather some light of it. Poor king, must be difficult losing so much of himself. I suppose it’s a blessing that he doesn’t know. It is …” Lady Alyce then looked up at Sir Æomund from under her long eye lashes, “… difficult to one such as me to know that the healers of my land and my race could probably cure King Haldan, but that is not our place, not our role.” She laughs slightly, “And to my knowledge there is no such healer in Kaldor.”
 
Sir Æomund slowed his pace in the garden, “I think it best that you should leave the city.”
 
“Why so? I am in no danger.”
 
“Trouble is coming and my duty will call me to pursue other endeavors than I would wish too, including the safety of my friends and family.”
 
“Sir Æomund it should call you, that is your special calling. You’re a knight, more than just a highwayman, more than a sell sword, you’re a knight of the Lady of Paladins. For you it’s a sacred calling, but I want you to understand that I can take care of myself, so that is one less burden for you.”
 
Sir Æomund nods, “Thank you for honesty and friendship.”
 
“I have always been your friend.”
 
Sir Æomund looked at the windows of the house again, a look that was not lost on Lady Alyce and the knight guided her back towards the house. There were more things to be said, questioned to be asked, but in truth the knight felt ill protected against the powers of the Deryni, and still wished to serve his lord faithfully.
 
They parted at the door but Sir Æomund made to leave when Sir Arren Lydel made an appearance, seeming to wish to engage the bearded knight in conversation.
 
“Sir Æomund Legith.”
 
“Sir Arren.”
 
“I understand you serve the Baron of Ternua?”
 
“I serve the Lady of Paladins, I happen to be in the service of Ternua under that capacity.”
 
Sir Arren was dismissive of the comment “Ah, I believe the distinction eludes me, no matter. Sir Æomund … yes, yes you do. I would like you to convey a message.”
 
“Certainly, be it verbal or in writing, if it is within my power to do so I will.”
 
From behind him Sir Æomund hears Lady Alyce reenter the room. She looked calm, but Sir Æomund detected a hint of concern.
 
“Yes, Sir Æomund you know who I am, the ambassador of the King of Melderyn, Darebor II.”
 
“Is that the message?” Sir Æomund knew that he could respect an office and still be peevish to a degree.
 
“It is not. I would like you to deliver a message to your master. I desire to meet with him wherever he chooses, under the circumstances that he chooses, but tomorrow, in the evening. Deliver this message to my brother.”
 
This was great news indeed to the knight of the Lady of Paladins, his liege lord was the brother of the Ambassador of Melderyn, the impact and repercussions of this knowledge were heavy. The knight did not show it outwardly, but knew the implications would add to his cares.
 
“Sir do you invite him in a formal capacity or a familial one?”
 
“Deliver the message to my brother. You have my leave to go.”
 
Sir Æomund was not one to be dismissed, even by a Deryni ambassador. Sir Æomund looked at Lady Alyce and though perhaps a petty act showed his defiance nonetheless to Sir Arren.
 
“I’ll take my leave of you lady, thank you.”
 
She courtesies, Sir Æomund unable to read her expression. Sir Æomund knew that it would take more than a sharp sword to navigate through the deepening troubles he found himself in. He hoped only that the Lady were with him again, and the he was doing her will though a poor instrument he thought himself to be at that moment.
 
“With each answer I get the trouble deepens,” thought the knight.
 
He stepped into the cold morning, no longer feeling the air, and with his eyes set ahead of him made his way to Raven Hall to see his liege lord.
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